'cause it's hard to see from where I'm standin'

She wears a striped orange bandana, knotted in the front. She has a silver nose ring.

She wears a brown leather jacket, absolutely, positively, festooned with fleur de lis, once a symbol of French Catholicism, then French Imperialism, then French Republicanism, now just general Frenchitude, yet cut as an American WWII bomber.

He wears a black canvas jacket cut to mimic the shoulder padding of a leather motorcycle jacket except it would certainly not survive such rigors.

She wears jeans covered in German deer hunters’ camouflage.

He wears a navy blue wool peacoat, to ape mariners’ wear, except the collar is cut to promote wearing upwards, which he does, and provisions are made for non-existent epaulets.

He wears tight cotton Chinos, despite this being winter, highwater to show off his burgundy leather not-boots.

She wears wheat Timberlands, hood formal wear, as do her sisters in charcoal and bright fucking red.

Leave a Reply

In a nutshell

Words of an urban indian. Musings on the nature of civilized society, city forms and bureaucratic processes, class and race consciousness, complaining, ranting and more ranting, along with whatever the hell else piques one's interest nowadays.

Categories

Meta

Calendar

Random Flotsam

To quote H. L. Mencken, "The government consists of a gang of men exactly like you and me. They have, taking one with another, no special talent for the business of government; they have only a talent for getting and holding office."